


y mater rhyngddynt // the matter between them

by Cân Cennau (gwenynnefydd)



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Amoral Julian Bashir, Angst, Anxiety, Caretaking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Ethical Dilemmas, Intersex Kelas Parmak, Legal Drama, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Section 31, my apologies to any juli b stans; he is not a nice man in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 08:53:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18518113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwenynnefydd/pseuds/C%C3%A2n%20Cennau
Summary: "Nobody will be immune from prosecution," said the Castellan of the Cardassian Union, a man whose hands were drenched in blood."Nobody."Enigma Tales, by Una McCormackWhen Elim embraced the Carnis report into war crimes, Kelas had expected that some day, at some time, someone would bring up Elim's past and bring it before a jury. They just didn't expect it to bethemselfthat had to testify against him.





	y mater rhyngddynt // the matter between them

**Author's Note:**

> This fic contains some references to the play "The Nexus" If you haven't yet read the Nexus, it can be found [here](https://archive.org/details/TheNexus_201905).

Thinking back on the events of that month, Kelas could not think of one indication that the evening that kickstarted everything was anything other than normal. Kelas had come home from the clinic, and Elim from the Central Archives, and together they shared a home-made meal of rice and _ðamme,_ a new fusion dish they’d both become fond of. Then, the radio went on, their PADDs were picked up, and they spent several minutes arguing about the poetry of half-Vulcan poet Ilota Mek and the Bajoran poet Athene Mol.

“Mol’s grasp of vernacular certainly outweighs Mek’s prose,” Kelas was arguing. “Her use of slang serves to _normalize_ her topic-”

“But Mek’s topics are far more abstract - they’re not meant to be normal.” Elim sniped back. “Is there anyway you can make quantum physical phenomena normal? It’s a miricle anyone can make good poetry about that at _all._ ”

“Mek’s poetry is _elitist_. And you’re just being a blue eyed _mnesphrhel_ to be contrary.”

“Perhaps I am! But perhaps it’s that I have the better opinion, and you don’t want to argue with me. Admit defeat, Kelas.”

Kelas pouted. “You’re mean.”

Elim laughed. “You call me a ‘blue eyed _mnesphrhel’_ and yet _I’m_ the one whose mean?”

“Hush.” And Kelas kissed him, just because they could. They could feel Elim’s smile against their lips between nips and licks, and they could not help but feel a warm thrill spiral up their spine. Despite Elim’s habit of being contrary, Kelas did love the man. And they fully intended to take Elim to bed, where they would kiss more, and then perhaps Elim would…

Their amorous encounter was interrupted by the shrill beeping of Elim’s private comm. Elim had clearly been fully intent on ignoring it, kissing Kelas deeper and grabbing their arse with both hands, but even after a few seconds the comm didn’t stop beeping. They broke apart breathing heavily, before Elim sighed, and pressed a gentle kiss to Kelas’ nose.

“I suppose I’d better answer that.” he said, before stepping away. Kelas mourned the loss of contact, but didn’t try to stop him from leaving. Instead, Kelas moved to the settee, and sat down, awaiting Elim’s return, entertaining themselves idly with ideas and plans for later that evening. But when Elim returned, his expression had lost the playful smile and the mischievous sparkle, and instead looked drawn and stern. He sat down heavily on the sofa, and Kelas automatically reached out the grip his hand.

“ _Đurha?_ ” they asked, concerned. “What’s happened?”

In response, Elim reached across for the remote, and turned on the ‘cast. They skipped through the channels, until they settled on one of the bigger news channels.

“Elim?”

“Watch.” he said simply. With one last concerned look, Kelas turned and watched the screen. It was the evening news, and the news officer was just questioning a member of the cabinet.

“ _...is it true?”_ the news officer was saying. “ _Do you know it the charges levied-”_

“ _I wouldn’t be interested in speculating on the veracity of the charges.”_ the member said. “ _That is up to the jury to decide.”_

“ _But there must be some evidence to back them up - the Federation would not press charges if not.”_

“ _If there is, I would not know of the evidence.”_ The cabinet minister shifted. “ _The Castellan has always made his intentions of prosecution very clear. The Federation are only following his orders.”_

“ _But to charge the Castellan of a foreign power with war crimes-”_

Kelas felt themselves take a sharp intake of breath, and their hand tightened briefly on Elim’s.

“ _-surely the Federation knows of the diplomatic ramifications of this decision?”_

“ _I’m certain they do - but the Castellan was clear. No-one is immune from prosecutions - and that includes the Castellan himself.”_

The program moved on to the minutiae of the charges and the possible outcomes, but Kelas was staring at Elim. Elim looked cool and unruffled, but Kelas had known him for long enough to recognise that he was far more nervous than he let on.

“ _Đurha…_ ” Kelas murmured, for once slightly uncertain what to say. Elim sighed, and squeezed Kelas’ hand.

“Maelor called me, and let me know the news had been leaked.”

“What are your thoughts on it, Elm?”

He paused for a moment.

“Well,” Elim said quietly. “It was unexpected, certainly.”

Kelas frowned. “Didn’t you know?”

“I _suspected,_ certainly, given the whispers that I’ve been hearing around the office. But no, the Federation ambassador didn’t tell me I was to be charged.”

“Do you at least know the charges?”

“Not yet - I won’t until I get the summons.” He paused. “As far as I’m aware, the Federation only have the power to charge me on actions against them and their allies. So whatever it’ll be, it will be whatever I was asked to do on Federation soil, or Bajoran soil.”

“Ah,” Kelas was quiet for a moment, thinking. Kelas knew from their work that the vast majority of the charges were true, albeit true thirty or forty years ago. But Cardassia had changed, and Elim had changed, and to charge Elim _now,_ after all these years... “What will you do?”

“I think I’ll be making an appointment with my _nestor_. Then I’ll be arranging my legal team, and planning our next move…” He tapped his lower lip pensievely. “My apologies, my dear, I think our evening plans will have to wait.”

“Of course.” Kelas pressed a kiss to their cheek. “Go, get yourself organized.”

Elim smiled at them, pressing their _chupha_ briefly against theirs. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Now go, before your _nestor_ turns in for the night.”

With one last smile, Elim rose from the settee and slipped out of the room, and Kelas heard him chat quietly with the security forces outside. They sighed, and looked at the mess of their evening in, before also rising and beginning to potter around and tidy up, very firmly _not_ thinking of the ‘casts or of Elim. There was no point worrying. Elim would speak to their legal team, the trial would run its course, and Kelas would have him back before long. The tightening in their chest when thinking of Elim being imprisoned for what happened was too uncomfortable to work through, and therefore Kelas refused to think about it. They couldn’t imprison him. They couldn’t have enough evidence.

It would all be fine.

* * *

Despite Elim’s case being front page news the next day, Kelas found their patients were more than happy not to ask them about anything about it. To be honest, that was probably because most of them had been in labour for several hours before they arrived on the scene, or were worried about some other part of the pregnancy, and therefore were in no state of mind to be asking them anything about it. The one time a patient’s family member had dared ask them, the patient told him in no uncertain terms that if he wanted to be the father of this child he was going to need to care more about the suffering mother than “Federation legalisms”.

That, however, was not the attitude of their colleagues in the breakroom, who were watching the news ‘casts with far more interest than Kelas had ever seen them take in the news before.

“...couldn’t watch it this morning - got stuck in traffic,” Kelas heard from a Nokaran doctor as they entered the break room. “What’s the news?”

“The Federation have made an official announcement, Chae’e.” another doctor replied - a half-Bajoran with flaming red hair, who Kelas knew was called Tellor. “They’ve confirmed the leak, and the charges they’re investigating for Castellan Garak came out about the same time too.”

“What’s he being investigated for?”

“One grave breach of the Interplanetary Convention for Criminal War Activity, and four minor. The grave breach is for the torture of Federation and Bajoran civilians - the minors are for being an accessory to apartheid, an accessory to slavery, an accessory to enforced disappearances and espionage.”

“Fates.” Chae’e whistled. “If he gets found guilty…”

“He’ll be locked up for a _very_ long time.” Tellor turned a little, and spotted Kelas. “What do you think, Doctor Parmak?”

“I don’t have a comment to make.” Kelas replied irritably, heading towards the replicators. “I don’t want to discuss it, thanks. Are the replicators on the blink again?”

“The one on the left works, I think.” Chae’e said, but Tellor didn’t seem to want to change the subject.

“Seriously, Doctor Parmak, you must have an opinion. You live with him-”

“-and that’s exactly why I have no comment.” Kelas began poking at the replicator buttons. What was the code for _matkott_ again? Three-five-seven…

“Surely you can give us _some_ gossip on the case-” Tellor was suddenly interrupted by a sharp elbow form Chae’e.

“They don’t want to talk about it, Tellor.” he said, firmly. “Leave them be.”

“How can they not want to talk about it? It’s to do with their-”

“I very much do not want to talk about it.” Kelas said firmly. “Could we turn off the news ‘cast?”

“If you’re not going to give us information on the case, then I might as well get it off the ‘cast.”

“You’ve been watching it all break.” Chae’e laid a hand on Tellor’s elbow. “You only have five minutes left. Have it off for a minute.”

“But-”

“No worries, Chae’e,” Kelas murmured, sensing a lost fight. “I’ll eat elsewhere.”

Now Tellor looked a little guilty. “Doctor Parmak-”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll go.” And with that, Kelas carefully picked up their things and walked out of the break room, firmly ignoring the guilty expression on Tellor’s face and the furious expression on Chae’e’s. Out in the cool hospital corridors, Kelas leaned against the wall, and took a couple of deep breaths. They hadn’t expected the discussion to affect them so much - in most political discussions, Kelas was able to keep a level head, even when their co-workers disagreed with the decisions Elim was making. But there was something about this case that touched a raw nerve, and Kelas’ mind was very insistent on reacting badly to any mention of the subject. They sighed again. _Stupid, traumatised heart..._

Nevermind. Despite the impending political storm, Kelas still had lunch to buy, and didn’t quite fancy the replimat downstairs, where the entire public could stare at them and ask questions. Instead, they retrieved some snacks from the vending machine and holed up in their office, slightly unhappy that their lunch options had gone from hot _matkott_ noodles to cold _bet’to_ crisps and a rather depressing vegetable wrap. They scrolled through their comm as they ate, studiously avoiding any news article that mentioned Elim’s case. As they finished Malia Annok’s latest reader’s digest, there came a knock at the door.

“Come in!”

Chae’e poked her head around the door. “Hi, Doctor Parmak. Can we speak?”

“Certainly.” They gave them a smile, as Chae’e carefully perched on one of Kelas’ chairs.

“I just wanted to apologise for what happened in the break room.” she said quietly. “Tellor was being an ass.”

“It’s not your duty to apologise for Tellor.”

“No, but I should’ve been much more firm. We’ve decided to keep the news ‘casts off the screens for now.”

“There’s no need-”

“No, there is. You should be welcome in the break room, same as the rest of us.” Chae’e smiled a little. “Plus, I missed our arguments about the latest radio drama you’ve gotten me into.”

Kelas laughed. “I’ll be certain to tell you my opinions on the last episode next break.”

“I wouldn’t expect any less.” Chae’e stood, and brushed down her skirt. “I best get back to my patients. How many appointments have you got left now?”

“Only three, bar any emergencies. Should be home by sundown.”

“Lucky - I’m in all night.” He gave Kelas a little bow. “Enjoy the rest of your afternoon, Doctor Parmak.”

Chae’e left the office and neatly shut the door behind her. Kelas sighed, before unlocking their comm and calling in their students.

* * *

The rest of Kelas’ day went by uneventfully - or rather, uneventfully compared to a normal day on the ward. Kelas worked with three patients for complex births in the afternoon, while also helping out the nurses in the check-up outpatient clinic. Tellor was working the outpatient clinic today, and although he didn’t say anything, Parmak got the impression that he was itching to start a discussion on the matter. Kelas’ students seemed to have picked up on the tension too, and acted as a buffer between Tellor and Kelas, ensuring that the two of them never exchanged more than brief requests or pleasantries, which was both infinitely welcome and slightly bemusing. But it at least made the day bearable, meaning when Kelas came home, they were no more tired than they usually were.

“How was your day?” Elim asked, when they arrived home.

“Same as usual.” Kelas replied, as they shed their coat and undid their hair.. “Births, check-ups, more births…”

“And no-one gave you trouble about…?”

“Everyone was too busy giving birth to be worried.” Kelas came up and pressed a kiss to Elim’s cheek. “The staff had the ‘casts on in the break room, mind, and a couple asked me about it.”

Elim looked a little guilty. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was nothing I couldn’t handle.” When Elim didn’t look much happier, Kelas rubbed their arm in what they hoped was a soothing manner. “It was okay. I just went somewhere else for my lunch.”

“You should be able to eat lunch wherever you like.” Elim frowned, but Kelas only smiled and moved away.

“Any news on the case?”

“Not much. The Federation made their official announcement - it’s not a criminal trial yet, but a preliminary hearing - an investigation as to whether there should be a trial. My legal team have all the documents they have on me.”

“And what do they think?”

“The case could go either way.” Elim turned back to his PADD. “As far as I’m aware, it’ll only be an examination of the texts they’ve dug up, and my legal counsel aren’t convinced many of them are reliable.”

“No witnesses?”

“None named. There are several notes stating that many possible witnesses are dead, but my _nestor_ thinks they’ll still try and find someone.”

“And the government?”

“Depends on who you ask. The remnants of the Directorate are baying for blood and my resignation. But everyone else is keeping mum on the subject.”

Kelas hmmed, and dropped a kiss on Elim’s head as they passed by on their way to the bedroom. There, Kelas shed the rest of their clothes, and dressed in something more comfortable - a loose sleep tunic, and a pair of soft leggings. As they brushed out their hair, Kelas’ mind turned back to the case, trying to fit all the details into the case into a coherent picture. The Federation was to charge Elim under their war crime legislation, but the evidence… Kelas had been in the Obsidian Order long enough to know that only the bare minimum was ever written down, and most of what the Order did was passed around in whispers and rumours. As a dissident, they’d known to take any whisper as truth and act accordingly, as the alternative was far worse than a few extra precautions, but in a court of law… For the first time, Kelas felt a little annoyed they hadn’t been watching the ‘casts, and didn’t have all the details to fully judge the likelihood of a conviction. But given what Elim had said, and given what little they knew about the Federation legal system...

If they didn’t have enough evidence, then maybe this would all blow over.

“Your PADD went off while you were changing,” Elim said, as they wandered back into the room. “It was marked urgent.”

“Will we ever have an evening to ourselves?” Kelas asked dryly. “I hope they’re not calling me out - I do need to wash my hair…”

Elim chuckled, and turned back to their book - an enigma tale, Kelas thought, and they look forward to the resulting bicker about how terrible it was. With a shake of their head, Kelas picked up the PADD and thumbed through to their messages. The new message sat at the top of their inbox, its importance marked by the all caps “URGENT” emblazoned in the title bar. They tried to open it, but found they couldn’t, the screen flashing with a request for a thumbprint. Kelas frowned.

“Why would anyone be sending anything confidential to my personal comm…?” they murmured, but still they pressed their thumb to the seal, and with a cheerful beep the message decrypted and Kelas was presented with a letter.

_WITNESS SUMMONS_

_Case ID: 24J6V01J_

_To Doctor Kelas Parmak (Kardasi) // Rhū-chū-eltsa-chaðȳcs Pharh-marhch neszūrh-ȳ (Indaric) of The Castellancy, State Building One, Coranum, Kardasi’or, 0AB32K;_

_You are summoned to attend as a witness to the trial of Elim Garak at the Judicial Committee of the Interplanetary Federated Order, to be hosted aboard the USS Cohlm at 0900 UF on stardate 23916.7 (Please see chart for your local time). You have been summoned as:_

  1.     _you_ _potentially were party to some or all of the charges levied, or_ _  
_    
  2.     _you_ _are potentially in possession of relevant evidence to the case, or_ _  
_    
  3.     _you_ _are potentially able to give evidence in respect of the above_ _charges._ _  
  
_



_You must attend the legal proceedings on this date._ _Details of what you are required to bring and how you may claim expenses are available in the pages attached. If you would like more support or more information on attending legal proceedings, you are also invited to contact our Witness Support council, or to contact your preferred nestor._

_If you believe you have been sent this summons in error, please contact a representative at the United Federation of Planets’ embassy (address in attached sheet)._

_Sincerely_

_Agent Orm-Leeth Io_

_Representative of the Judicial Committee of the Interplanetary Federated Order_

Kelas did not notice the PADD crash to the floor until the clang of metal against hardwood floor clattered through the air. Not that Kelas was in any state to pick it back up - their vision had darkened, and a tiny rational voice idly noted in the back of their mind that they’d become to hyperventilate. A wave of panic had overcome the rest of their rational mind though, and Kelas could not fight it, shaking like a leaf, mouth dry, heart thudding in their ears, because _oh fates_ , this was _not_ supposed to happen, it was _not_ -

“Kelas?” Elim approached them, concern etched in every crevice of his features. “Kelas, are you alright?”

“I…” Some part of Kelas’ brain was trying to reboot itself, but KElas could not focus. Elim gently laid a hand on their back, but the touch was like an electric shock. Kelas flinched away, closing their eyes so they didn’t have to witness Elim’s expression of hurt. They couldn’t handle it right now, they needed to regroup- to be _alone-_

“I need to take a bath,” Kelas finally rasped out. “Excuse me-”

Kelas purposefully did not look at Elim as they hurried into the bathroom, locking the door shut behind them. In the privacy of the bathroom, Kelas dropped heavily onto the edge of the bath, holding the PADD in front of them with shaking hands.

A _summons_. Kelas had thought, perhaps naively, that it wouldn’t come to this. They had thought (or hoped) that their part in the Obsidian Order, as a bit-player more than anything, would be too minor to warrant anyone asking them any questions. Perhaps in their youth, they’d prayed for the opportunity to testify against Elim, but as the years rolled on, Kelas now only prayed that they never had to think of that time in their life ever again. Although Kelas and Elim had settled their past and were now happily married, Kelas could never quite get rid of the feeling that the rug was about to be pulled from under their feet.

They weren’t even aware it was legal for them to be summoned, due to their marriage with Elim, and yet here the summons was. Elim had expressed concern that he was not morally appropriate to suggest prosecutions, but Kelas had never imagined it would be _them_ who would be helping judge Elim’s morality. And given what Elim had said about the case, what was in the notes - what was it again? Comments on how many witnesses were dead? If that were true, then Kelas would be the only witness available to testify.  

Why _them?_

There came a knock at the bathroom door. “Kelas,” Elim murmured. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine!” Kelas replied almost instinctively, then kicked themselves - that was the least convincing response they could’ve come up with. They could almost hear Elim’s eyeridge raising behind the locked door.

“Kelas,” he said, and the tone was now much more firm. “Please don’t lie to me. Will you open the door?”

Kelas toyed with the idea of refusing, but then sighed and pressed the button to unlock the door. Elim came in almost immediately, and his face was a picture of confusion and concern. On seeing Kelas perched on the edge of the bath, hunched and miserable, Elim’s face transformed into near panic, and he quickly kneeled in front of the older doctor. Gently, almost reverently, Elim took their hands in his own. The touch almost burnt in its softness, and Kelas struggled not to flinch away.

“Kelas…?” Elim asked, quietly.

“I…” Kelas tried to make the words form in their mouth, but they got lodged in their throat. How did you tell your husband that you had to give evidence that could result in their imprisonment?

“Was there something in that letter you got?” Elim asked. “Is it something you can tell me?”

“I… can’t. I’m sorry Elim, I can’t-”

“Hush, _ðurha._ That’s alright.” Elim gathered them close, letting them bury their head in Elim’s shoulder. “If you can’t tell me, that’s alright. Just… let me look after you. I hate to see you upset.”

Kelas hesitated, then nodded. They let themselves be kissed, gently, and maneuvered around so that Elim could do what they needed to. The bath was filled with warm water and one of Kelas’ numerous bath bombs, so that the water sparkled with shimmer and a myriad of different colours. Kelas was stripped, then helped into the water, in which they sunk into it with a sigh. The bath was good, but even as Elim washed their hair with infinite care, Kelas could not help but still feel haunted by the letter on their PADD. Would Elim do this if he knew what decision Kelas had to make? Could Kelas live with themselves if Elim was arrested for what they had done? Elim’s blunt fingers combing through their white-silver hair normally served to calm them, but right now they only seemed to remind them of what they had to lose.

“You’re frowning again.” Elim murmured. “That letter has you worried.”

“Sorry,” Kelas murmured, shutting their eyes as Elim poured water through their hair. “I am enjoying this, I just-”

“I know.” Elim carefully cradled their head, and dipped it beneath the bathwater to wash away the suds. “It’s a tough time for both of us.”

Neither of them spoke much as Elim dried Kelas off, and shuffled them into the bedroom. It was easy enough for Kelas to slide into their bed, where the shared taste-scent of the bedclothes seeped across their _phrhūll_. They peered over the edge of the bedding as Elim pottered about, choosing a data rod from their bookshelves, before searching around for something in the chest at the foot of the bed. With a slight noise of approval, Elim pulled out a stuffed whale toy, faded white with a bright yellow eye, something Kelas had kept from their childhood.

“I think you might need this tonight.” Elim smiled, and handed it over. Kelas laughed and accepted the toy, cuddling it close.

“What are you reading tonight, Elim?” they asked, settling back into the bed.

“ _Amphlarhma_. I believe you mentioned that was your favourite?”

“It is! You’re spoiling me tonight.”

“I’d spoil you every night if I could.” Elim leaned down, and pressed a gentle kiss to their forehead. “Anything to make you happy.”

Elim settled in to the bed, and began reading aloud to Kelas. His voice soothed Kelas, but even as they drifted off to sleep, the dark spectre of the court case lurked quietly at the back of their mind.

* * *

The dawn broke the next morning, and Kelas awoke bleary-eyed and miserable. Despite Elim’s gentle care the night before, the anxiety still prowled around the back of their mind like a wary _phnmellla_ cat. They rubbed their eyeridges, and patted around on the nightstand for their comm, trying hard not to dislodge Elim who was pillowed against their chest. There were not many new messages - a few from acquaintances asking about the case, which Kelas immediately discarded, one from the back office at work with their pay slip, one from an old friend, Sūl-Amūë… Hmm. Kelas tapped the message from Sūl-Amūë and read it - it was about the case, as many of the others were, but instead of searching for gossip, Sūl-Amūë only asked if they needed any support. Kelas’ initial thought had been _no, no thanks, I’m fine_ , but something stopped them from immediately discarding it like the others. Sūl-Amūë was a _nestor,_ and if there were ever a time Kelas needed legal advice...

Elim awoke just as Kelas finished tapping out a reply, and sending it off to Sūl-Amūë. Elim’s arms tightened around Kelas, and he shifted around on the bed until he could press a good morning kiss their neck ridge.

“Morning,” he said, voice still thick with sleep. “What are you doing?”

“Texting,” they replied. “Arranging a coffee date with Sūl-Amūë.”

“A date? Should I be jealous?”

“Hush, you - you know full well that’s just an expression.”

Elim grinned, and shifted some more so he could kiss Kelas properly. In the soft dawn light, Kelas could almost pretend that everything was normal, that this was just another morning where Elim teased them and tried to get them to stay in bed for as long as possible, where Kelas pretended they didn’t have the day off and would bicker, and there would be many other pleasureable things, and that there was nothing that threatened that happy little union. As they broke apart, Kelas’ comm pinged, and they checked it - a reply, stating _I’m free until midrise._ Only a few hours away. Kelas sighed.

“Sūl-Amūë wants to meet early,” they said. “I’d better get ready.”

“Can’t I convince you to stay a little longer?” Elim pouted, and Kelas pressed a light kiss to their nose.

“Not today. I’ll see you later.”

Elim watched as Kelas rose from the bed, and got themselves ready for the day. Despite Elim’s light banter earlier, Kelas knew Elim was still concerned after their panic attack yesterday, and Kelas strived to look as normal as possible as they dressed. They dressed in a dark blue caftan with gold detailing, and slipped on a comfortable pair of shoes, before turning to the mirror to tidy their hair. Their face was still drawn and pinched, and despite Kelas’ best efforts, still carried a slightly anxious air. With a sigh, they brushed and tied the hair back into a neat plait, and applied minimal amount of _pacht_ , before pressing a kiss goodbye to Elim and leaving the house, picking up their scarf along the way.

At this time in the morning, the city was relatively quiet _._ There were few people waiting at the tram station, and Kelas was able to scan in and board the tram with only a few curious looks. They sat down heavily on one of the chairs, purposefully ignoring everyone else in the carriage, and watched the landscape outside shudder and rattle as the tram moved off into another part of the city. The tram journey was normally relaxing for Kelas, but today they felt nothing but anxiety. The scales on the back of their neck seemed to rise every time one of the other passengers so much as breathed funny, and Kelas could not help but feel like they were all secretly watching them, waiting for them to break, judging them for what they had been asked to do...

Kelas shook their head to dispel the thought. They were just seeing things. No-one knew they were a witness, no-one was judging them. They were _fine._

The tram rattled onwards, and Kelas disembarked a few stops later in a leafy suburb of Paldar. The cold breeze that hit Kelas as they stepped out of the station grounded them, and blew away a little of the fuzziness caused by the anxiety. They walked down the straight  road, past the neat houses built out of a mix of Federation plasticrete and Kardasi sandstone and giant crab shells, until they reached number 156. 156 distinguished itself from its neighbours by both the large sign outside stating “SŪL-AMŪЁ - NESTOR AND RELATED LEGAL SERVICES” and the large, almost intact _achcharhrhi_ crab that sat atop the peak of the roof. With only a moment’s hesitation, Kelas pushed open the gat, and went over to the door, and within a few minutes they were buzzed in and directed to the office at the top of the house.

“Ah, Doctor Parmak! Come in, come in…”

 _Nestor_ Sūl-Amūë's office was a nice place, Kelas thought. Nice and bright, with a sloping ceiling and long windows, and plenty of space for a wide desk and stuffed bookshelves. The soft carpet squished delightfully under Kelas’ feet as they crossed the room to press their palm against the _nestor_ ’s, feeling calmer and less on edge already.

“Thank you for finding the time to see me, Sūl-Amūë.” Kelas greeted. “I appreciate it.”

“Anything for an old friend.” Sūl-Amūë indicated to two squishy chairs in front of their desk. “Come, sit down. I'll pour some tea.”

As was traditional, the first ten minutes of the meeting with the _nestor_ was spent observing the tea ritual. The tea was poured in a specific way, the cup rims circled with a wet forefinger, the cups raised with a murmur of _alëä,_ and the first sip burning down their throats. Kelas was the first to speak, staring deep into the gold tea given to them.

“I’ve been asked to be a witness at Elim’s trial.”

To her credit, Sūl-Amūë did not drop her cup. Instead, she placed their cup down delicately on the saucer, and tilted their head. “Well, that was… unexpected.”

“You’re telling me.”

“I didn’t think spouses could be compelled to give evidence?”

“I didn’t think so either.” Kelas took a sip of their tea. “I don’t believe they’re aware of our marriage. We do keep it private.”

“In which case, you don’t have to give evidence. Unless… you wanted to give it voluntarily?”

“I… don’t know. That’s why I’m here. I don’t know if I _should_.”

“Alright. How about we start at the beginning?” When Kelas hesitated, Sūl-Amūë leant forward. “Anything you say in here is strictly confidential, Kelas. There’s no chance of it getting out to anyone at that trial, unless you say so.”

Kelas took a few deep breaths, and gave Sūl-Amūë a smile. “Thank you.”

They nodded. “Now, what’s happened?”

“The case. They have evidence - documents, things like that - that points to Elim as a perpetrator or accessory to war crimes, when he was a part of the Obsidian Order, but much of it is hearsay, and some of it can’t be verified. Currently, I’m the only living witness, and the only living victim, to the crimes.”

“And you can corroborate the documents?”

“Some of them, yes.”

Sūl-Amūë leaned back, and thought for a moment. “I think first of all, I need to reassure you that you are not at fault if your spouse is found guilty or not guilty at trial.”

“But if I give evidence-”

“-then perhaps the jury will decide that the Castellan has atoned enough and there would be no reason to imprison him.” Sūl-Amūë smiled a little. “Likewise, perhaps you won’t give evidence, and the jury will decide that the evidence provided stands on its own, and he will be incarcerated anyway.”

“...I think I preferred the version where I was in control of Elim’s fate.”

“I think we all prefer versions where we’re in control.”

“I guess in that case, I’m not looking for legal advice at all, but for ethical advice.”

“Whether it would be ethical to give evidence in this case?”

“Mmm.”

Sūl-Amūë was quiet for a moment. “Before we discuss this, I just need to make clear - has anyone tried to pressure you into giving or not giving evidence?”

“No.” Kelas shook their head. “Elim doesn’t know I’m a witness. No one does, except those who sent me the summons.”

“Alright. Well, you know I can’t make this decision for you.”

“I know.” Kelas took another gulp of tea. “I just… I don’t know where I should go with it.”

“Do you think Castellan Garak committed a crime?”

“I do.”

“Then what’s holding you back?”

Kelas hesitated. “I… don’t want him to go. I think he’s atoned enough. He designed this legal system, he encouraged fairness and democracy - it just seems… _wrong_ for it to be used against him.”

The nestor nodded, somewhat thoughtful. “Do you think his atonement is justice enough for those he’s committed crimes against?”

“I suppose that’s what the judge is there for - to decide if he has or hasn’t.” Kelas paused for a moment. “For me, he’s repaid his debt a thousand times over. I don’t want to give evidence against him.”

“But…?”

“But my evidence doesn’t just concern me. I was Obsidian Order too - my evidence concerns what I saw happen there, not just what happened to me.”

“And you feel that you have a duty to the families of those you saw?”

“Yes.”

Sūl-Amūë exhaled, slowly. “I think there are no easy answers here.”

“That’s somewhat of an understatement.” Kelas laughed, a little bitterly.

“I think your choice whether you give evidence or not is down to your own feelings. In a strictly utilitarian sense, your evidence is of direct importance to the case, so by that logic you should give it.”

“But?”

“But we’re not a utilitarian people. You have your own desires and thoughts here. You’re the only surviving victim here - but you need to understand that even if you give evidence or not, Castellan Garak’s fate rests with the jury, _not_ with you.”

Kelas nodded, and downed the last of the tea. “I think I perhaps need some time to come to terms with that. Thank you, _nestor._ ”

“It’s no problem.”

The rest of the meeting passed without issue - Sūl-Amūë walked Kelas though the witness process, since they were unfamiliar with Federation law, and also walked them through the process for challenging the validity of the summons. By the end of the meeting, Kelas was no less conflicted by what they should do, but their heart at least felt a little lighter than before.

* * *

With the support of Sūl-Amūë, the initial panic Kelas had felt at the prospect of being a witness faded into a dull anxiety, and Kelas found it at least a little easier to sleep at night. The panic attack they had on the first night didn’t repeat itself, even though Kelas knew Elim was keeping an eye on them to see if it did. Most bouts of anxiety about the case could be handled with some deep, controlled breathing - although there wasn’t much Kelas could do about the eerie, creepy dreams that had started to crop up. Elim and Kelas had not talked much about the case - Elim seemed to want to keep his own counsel on the subject, and as much as Kelas wanted to discuss it with him, Kelas simply had to trust in Elim’s legal team. And between Elim’s visits to his legal team, and both their jobs, Kelas hadn’t had the chance to tell Elim of the summons.

Perhaps that was for the best.

One evening, as the dinner trays were put away, and the darkness was halfway through falling, Kelas looked out of the Castellan residency, and brooded. Their tea steamed from the mug in between their hands, fruit notes and the slight bitterness of oversteeping, but they did not drink from it, only stared outside the window and watched as the world went by. The night shift workers rattled past on the tram, whilst the tired day workers took their skimmers home, the students prepared for a night out in the U of U as their room lights twinkled like starlight. Kelas could remember, some time in the deep past, that they had been just like that - a young student, then a junior doctor, then the night obstetrician…

“A _lek_ for your thoughts?” Elim asked, from his position on the couch. Kelas had thought he was reading through some reports, but the PADD was abandoned on the cushion beside him, obviously tossed.

“Just watching the world go by,” they replied, smiling a little. “Seeing the students… Do you remember when we were them?”

“Mmm. Although, I was removed from university after my first year. Tain took me out.”

Kelas winced. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry if I reminded you of…”

Elim batted their concern away with a wave of his hand. “It’s in the past.” he said. “You weren’t to know.”

Kelas did not reply, and instead turned the window. From the vantage point, they could see the snake of people winding their way through the nightlife district of Akleen, the old military sector that had been repurposed into an after-hours underground. After a little while, Kelas heard the couch creak as Elim rose from it, and a warm press of his hand against their back as he too approached the window.

“I liked being a student.” he commented, quietly. “It was a good time, to start with. It was the first time I was out from under Uncle Tain’s feet. I enjoyed it, when I succeeded. And then…”

And they both knew what then. Betrayal. Grief. The Order. Kelas leaned into Elim’s side, granting comfort while their hands were occupied with tea.

“The old Cardassia was ruthless.” they murmured. “I like the shape the new one is taking.”

“As do I.” Elim observed the city for a little while, and Kelas smiled when that familiar affectionate, loving expression took to their lips. Elim was always so proud of Cardassia.

“What do you think they’re thinking of?” he asked, after a little while. Kelas laughed.

“If I knew that,” they replied. “I’d be able to understand more than half of the references that my students make.”

Elim laughed. “I always thought about the next battle, the next book to read, the future. Whay about you?”

“I was much more present thinking. How to help this patient here, current politics, current affairs…”

“Always the pragmatist.” He was silent for a few moments more. “What do you think they feel about the prosecutions?”

Kelas weighed their answers carefully before answering. “Well, I think they like you. But they also like justice.”

“And I guess it is up to the Federation to decide if there is justice to be found.” The weather outside began to turn, and the patter of rain interrupted the following silence. “What about you?”

Kelas started. “What about me?”

“You were one of my… victims. Would this bring justice to you?”

Kelas hid their anxiety behind their mug of tea, gulping it down in lieu of an answer. The truth was, of course, infinitely more complex than the question allowed for. They thought back over their conversation with Sūl-Amūë, drew strength from her support, and weighed an answer in their mind.

“Once upon a time, I would’ve said yes. But I forgave you a long time ago.”

Kelas put their mug down on the window sill, and turned towards Elim. They raised their hands, and stroked down the prominent neck ridges in warm comfort. Elim’s eyes were a bright blue, but weary too, like they had the weight of the world behind them. Kelas remembered how those eyes had broken them, but had then sparkled with mischief, glowed with affection, and had forged a bond between them that had lasted the test of time. Kelas wished the lightness could come back to their _ðurha’s_ eyes.

“It is not my justice that this is for.” they murmured. “It is the justice of the others that remain. Bajorans. Families of those taken by the Order. It… will not bring me any joy Elim, to see you stand trial. I _don’t_ want it.”

“I know.” Elim murmured. “I _know_.”

And as Elim drew them close for a comforting kiss, Kelas couldn’t quite squash the niggle of guilt that squirmed in the bottom of their gut.

* * *

The next morning, Kelas awoke to an empty bed - which was surprising, because Elim never got up early if he could help it. They rose, and dressed, before heading into the living room with a curious expression on their face. Elim was stood in the middle of the room, coat and scarf already put on, and a dust mask carefully being slung over one shoulder. _I wonder where he’s going,_ Kelas thought, watching Elim fiddle with the buckle on the dust mask. _To work maybe? Or his nestor?_ As Kelas contemplated this odd turn of events, Elim turned towards the bedroom. Upon seeing Kelas, Elim smiled, and crossed the room to greet them.

“Must dash, my dear.” Elim said, hurriedly pressing a kiss to their cheek. “My _nestor’s_ arranged a meeting with my legal team this morning, and I’m very almost late. And then there’s meetings, and paperwork, and more meetings-”

“You go.” Kelas smiled, touching his arm gently. “I’ll order in dinner for us both tonight when you come back.”

Elim grinned, and left in a flurry of a scarf and coat. Kelas shook their head, squashing the guilt in the pit of their stomach, instead turning to the kitchen to prepare a cup of tea. Perhaps it was best Elim didn’t know who the witness was - if they knew, then perhaps he could be accused of putting pressure on Kelas to change their testimony. Or perhaps it would just stress Elim out more, and their happy little home life would come screeching to a halt. No, it was better for them both if Kelas kept it quiet - it at least gave them time to decide if they would be giving testimony or not. And no matter what the bad feeling in their stomach said, it was not Kelas’ responsibility to judge Elim guilty or not guilty - they just had to give evidence. It would be fine. Kelas boiled and poured water into their mug, and placed a teabag of camomile and Bajoran lilac in the hot water, taking a couple of deep breaths to quell the creeping anxiety.

As Kelas’ tea steeped on the countertop, Kelas suddenly became very aware that they were not alone in the house. Perhaps it was the slight shift in the air, or the slight metallic tang of transporter ions, but something in the house was telling Kelas that someone had arrived, and not through the front door. They were tempted to immediately press the emergency button in the kitchen, and have security handle it, but Kelas wasn’t even certain _who_ it was yet, let alone where they were in the house, and Kelas wasn’t going to be the one to call security based on their anxiety. Carefully, Kelas picked up their tea, and peered around the doorframe into the living room. It did not take long for Kelas to see exactly who was in their house - at the mantelpiece stood a tall, willowy man, with chestnut skin and curly brown-black hair. They dressed in ordinary clothes, which wouldn’t look too out of place in the tourist areas of the city - but something about the look set Kelas on edge. It was too normal, as if this person had tried too hard to blend into the crowd.

“Interesting collection,” the man said as he turned towards them, and Kelas could now see a grey-speckled beard and a pair of distinctly Human brown eyes. “I always wondered what kinds of things Garak would collect in his house.

Kelas didn’t even need to ask anything to recognise this man.

“Doctor Bashir,” they said, purposefully turning away from the man. “Elim may be impressed with you breaking into his house, but I am not.”

They heard Bashir laugh behind them. “A shame, that.”

“Perhaps.” Kelas paused, stirring their tea. “You’re not getting what you want.”

“And what is that?”

“I don’t know. But whatever it is, you’re not getting it. Not until you leave my house and come in the proper way.”

Bashir was silent for a moment, and then Kelas heard footsteps as he left the room. The living room door opened and shut, and then there came three knocks, before it opened and shut again. Cup in hand, Kelas turned just in time to watch Bashir re-enter the room.

“That’s the proper way, isn’t it?” he said dryly. “May I speak with you now?”

“Aren’t I supposed to give consent for you to come in?”

That earned them an eyeroll. “I know enough about Cardassian etiquette to know that you folks don’t refuse entry into your house for anyone. You at least let guests into the porch.”

“I suppose so.” Kelas tipped their head towards the soft chairs in the corner. “Sit.”

Bashir turned to the chairs and sat down, with an air of cheeriness that Kelas found hard to respond to. Kelas sat in the chair opposite, tea in hand, and eyed the other doctor with badly concealed disapproval. The last time they had spoken, Bashir had convinced Kelas to send Elim into the Nexus, the _lūëmmrh,_ in search of a cure for a plague. However, Bashir had failed to tell themm he was with Section 31, and had failed to tell them that, in fact, he’d been sitting on the cure for two years and just wanted to run Elim around in circles in the dreamscape of the _lūëmmrh_. Kelas did not offer Bashir any tea - people who broke into their house did not deserve their tea, and people like Bashir who’d previously abused their trust deserved their tea even less. They took a sip and simply watched Bashir, who was equally watching them back.

“I suppose you know why I’m here.” Bashir finally said, after the silence had grown a few shades awkward. “I’d like to talk about Elim’s trial.”

“I may have guessed that.” Kelas replied. “I don’t know what you’ll think you’ll get from me.”

“You trust me that little?”

“I don’t like people who abuse my trust.”

“I abused it for a good cause!”

“You put Elim in a dangerous position, and gambled with the lives of children- _children!_ \- in order to stop a war Starfleet was too scared to handle!”

Some part of Bashir closed itself off. “I- _we_ made the best decision we could.”

“It was not your decision to make.” Kelas turned back to their tea, noticing their hand was shaking a little. _Steady, now…_

“I’m not here to rehash what’s past.” Bashir murmured. He was silent for some time. “May I make a request, Kelas?”

“Is this a request from a friend of Elim’s, or from Section 31?” Kelas asked waspishly.  Bashir looked at Kelas evenly.

“Consider it both.”

“What do you want?”

“I’d like to know what evidence you plan to give at his trial. If you plan to give any at all.”

“Isn’t it considered fairly illegal to tamper with witnesses?”

“I’m not tampering. Just asking.”

“Well, ask away. I’m not giving you an answer.”

A ghost of a smile flickered across Bashir’s face. “I forgot how stubborn and whiney you can be.”

“If I continue to be stubborn and whiney, will you leave?”

“No.”

“It was worth a try.” Kelas’ tea was now cool enough to drink in larger gulps. “I’m still not telling you.”

“Then let me tell you what I see.” With a slightly forced air, Bashir settled back into his chair and relaxed. “The case against him is isn’t airtight.”

“Hmm.”

“The information you have could swing the case either way.”

“I haven’t even produced a witness statement yet. How do you know what I know? I might know nothing.”

“Elim wrote to me about you. That chronicle. I know what he did to you.”

Kelas was silent. Bashir sighed.

“Look, the case against Garak isn’t airtight - the parts relating to the charges in the documents are flimsy at best. You’ve probably already realised that we can’t prove Garak was the subject of the documents.”

“You need someone to corroborate it.”

“If I were a betting man, I’d put money on your testimony corroborating the evidence.”

Kelas made a non-committal noise, and drank more tea. “Your point?”

“My point is if you don’t give testimony, the case will likely fall apart.” Bashir leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I know the summons issued to you are unenforceable, since you and Elim are married - and well done, by the way, for keeping _that_ so quiet. But you can still give evidence voluntarily.”

“Why are you so invested in the outcome of this case?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?”

“I guess Section 31 would be interested in it.”

“Of course we would be. The collapse of this case would create a… diplomatic incident. You know that Bajor would lose trust in Federation jurisdiction should Elim be found innocent.”

“And of course, the Federation would like Bajor to become a member.”

“That is the eventual plan.”

“And that’s not mentioning that it would be very embarrassing for the Federation to charge a foreign leader with war crimes, only for them to be found innocent.”

“That too. The Federation has a lot resting on this case, as does Cardassia - I would hate for... _sentimentality_ to cloud your judgment.”

Kelas felt a flicker of anger burn in their throat, but they swallowed it down. There was no need to be showing this spook all that they were feeling - they just needed to keep it quiet until Bashir left. Kelas raised their mug to take another mouthful of tea, but found it disappointingly empty.

“Thank you for your insight,” Kelas sighed. “but as entertaining as this has been, I would like you to leave now.”

They rose from their chair, and walked into the kitchen in search of more tea. They had hoped that Bashir would take the hint and leave them be in their normally spook-free house, but it was not to be. Within a few moments, Kelas heard Bashir rise from his chair, and follow them into the kitchen.

“You can’t escape me that easily.”

“I can certainly try.”

“Will you consider what I’ve said, at least? You of all people should understand what is at stake here.”

Kelas sighed. “Doctor, I don’t want to be the person who has my husbands ex-partner arrested for witness tampering.”

“As I said-”

“-you’re not tampering?” With deliberate slowness, Kelas carefully pressed the emergency button beneath the kitchen counter. “I’d _love_ to see what Cardassia’s police team have to say about it.”

Bashir’s face suddenly tightened into a scowl, as he realised exactly what Kelas had done. He stepped back a few paces, and sighed, before slamming the button on his uniform with the palm of his hand. The whirr of a teleport sounded, before Bashir vanished in a flash of light. A few moments later, Elim’s security team came hurrying in, phasers and scanners armed and ready.

“Are you alright, Doctor Parmak?”

“No.” Kelas placed the cup down on the table. “There was someone here - he just teleported out.”

“We’ll investigate.” the security guard replied, nodding. “Did you want us to notify the Castellan?”

“I…” Kelas thought for a moment, before shaking their head. “No. I’ll tell Elim myself.”

* * *

Kelas, naturally, did not tell Elim anything about the unwelcome visitor. Not only did Kelas not want to worry the other man, but they also suspected that Elim would struggle to accept that their friend would even attempt to sway Kelas in that way. Besides, Kelas would then have to explain the summons and how they were supposed to be a witness in the court case, and Kelas had exactly zero interest in doing that. Therefore, when Elim came home that evening, they had a very nice spook-free evening where Elim cooked korma and rice, and Kelas pretended they weren’t expecting Section 31 to come popping out of the naan basket.

“You’re very tense tonight, Kelas.” Elim murmured, as they finished up the last of their korma. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Kelas said, far too quickly. “Just work things.”

Elim raised an eyeridge, and Kelas knew he did not believe them. “Kelas…”

“I’m alright.” Kelas rose from the table, and began stacking the dirty plates. “How was your day?”

There was some silence, before Elim let the topic slide. “It was fine.”

“Nothing to complain about?”

“Oh, Terrok was being an ass again today, but when is he not?” Elim tidied his place, making far more noise than was strictly necessary. “The press have been camped outside the office for most of the day, but that’s not new either. Seems they’re not satisfied with the official statement on the case.”

“Are they ever satisfied with anything?”

Elim laughed. “No. Have you been watching the ‘casts?”

“No. I haven’t wanted to.”

“Well, you can see they’ve grabbed onto something new now.” With an indication, Elim lead them both into the living room. “The Federation made an official announcement this morning - there’s to be a trial after the hearing. They’ll take witness statements before, and examine evidence, before the judge decides if I should be prosecuted.”

“And then?”

“And if they decide I should face criminal charges, I’ll have to enter a plea.” Elim moved over to the side table, and poured out two glasses of kanar. “You understand that if they ask me to enter a plea, I will have to plead guilty.”

An icy had suddenly twisted Kelas’ guts, and they were very thankful that there was a settee nearby for them to collapse onto. Elim handed them the second glass of kanar, and they downed it quickly, noting that their hands had begun to shake. _Steady, Kelas…_

“I’m guessing this is to prove an example for future prosecutions?” Kelas asked. “‘No-one is immune’, I believe you said?”

“Something like that.” Elim eased himself down onto the settee beside Kelas. “It won’t look good if everyone else is charged except me.”

“Hmm.” They were both silent for a moment. Kelas twisted the glass in their hand, feeling the bumpy glass patterns rub against their scales, purposefully not looking in Elim’s direction. They heard Elim sigh, before starting to speak again.

“I know this is going to be hard on you.” Elim murmured. “I don’t want you to be taken unawares.”

“I appreciate it, _ðurha_.”

“We do need to talk about what happens afterwards, though.”  

“I…” Kelas looked down into their empty glass, and wished there was more kanar in it. “I know. I just find it hard to talk about.”

“That’s understandable.” Elim took a sip of his kanar. “If I am prosecuted, we need to arrange housing for you. You are, of course, welcome to stay in our house in Paldar, but I’ll need to put everything in your name.”

“Mmm.” The icy hand twisted Kelas’ gut even tighter, and they took a deep breath. “Will we need to that before…”

“I’ve advised my legal team to switch everything over in the event of my arrest.” Elim paused, then sighed. “It’s unlikely I’d be out of prison before my death anyway, given the charges.”

“Don’t-” Kelas cut themselves off with a sharp hiss. “Don’t _talk_ like that.”

“Like what? It’s the truth.”

“The judge might not want to prosecute.”

“But they _might,_ and that’s why we need to have this discussion.” Elim watched them cautiously. “What’s the matter?”

“I don’t want to think about you being locked away. I don’t want to think about you not being _here_.” To Kelas’ shame, their voice broke on the last word, and they turned away to hide the sudden tears that had sprung to their eyes. They heard Elim shift on the settee, before Kelas felt themselves tugged into an embrace. Elim pressed a kiss to the top of Kelas’ head, gentle and soothing, and Kelas choked a little on the sob that tried to escape.

“I don’t want you to go.” they managed to say, and felt Elim hum beneath them.

“I know if it were in your power, you’d have me stay here,” he murmured. “But that decision is up to the Federation.”

 _But I do have that power_ , Kelas thought miserably. _I could make sure you could stay here_. But they didn’t put voice to thought, and instead enjoyed the embrace for a few moments, before straightening up. They wiped the few errant tears from their cheeks, and took a few deep breaths.

“Alright,” they said. “Let’s sort this out, hmm?”

* * *

Despite Kelas’ best efforts, the discussion of what would happen after the trial still crawled under Kelas’ skin. The idea of Elim leaving them for any length of time, or worse, _dying_ in some Bajoran prison, was almost too much to bear. Elim seemed to sense this too, and was certain to treat them gently that evening, but that just served to make the whole situation worse, as Kelas’ muddied emotions warred with the decision they had to make. Kelas should’ve then expected the nightmares that came that night, the ones that barrelled their way into their head and left them breathless with fear for hours.

Before the summons, Kelas rarely dreamed of Utsð. During the Fire, and for a time after, Utsð came to haunt them every time the death and destruction became too much - but when things had settled, and Kelas had processed it all, Utsð became an uncomfortable but ignorable background hum. The Utsð Steppe Mining Facility, to give its full name, was a labour camp, located in their home province of Indar. Political prisoners weren't taken off-world to the Bajoran or the Union colony labour camps, due to the risk of escape or rebellion, and so Kelas stayed on planet, deep in the foothills north-west of Chūle-Ȳchūë-Ūnna. From topside, the place looked like an ordinary mining camp, with huts and machinery and stacks of slag, but beneath there ran massive networks of underground tunnels, with the shallower passages hosting living quarters for inmates, and the deeper pits providing the perfect ground to grow and mine dilithium, needed for ships in the Great Imperic Fleet of the Union. Kelas was lucky that they hadn't been picked to work the mines - rather, they were requisitioned as a medical aide, and only worked the mimes if the need for dilithium spiked. Kelas was even luckier that they'd been released after three years - those still held in Utsð during the last hours of the Dominion War had their quarters gassed, before the dilithium was set alight, burning away almost everyone who was there.

Kelas’ mind did not care that Kelas had not been there when Utsð burnt - it still tortured them with smoke-clogged corridors and the screaming of the inmates. Both their memories of Utsð and those of the Fire slammed into each other to produce nightmarish memory-dreams, with Kelas crawling through the old corridors, searching and searching for someone they knew was dead. Occasionally it was friends and folk they knew had been interred at Utsð, but then their mind feverishly produced more people to die in their nightmares. The children lost in the Fire. The patients that died in their emergency clinic. Pythas Lok, interred at Utsð but one of the survivors of the genocide. Tonight, it was Elim, scales burnt and face bubbling from the heat, blue eyes glassy and lifeless. The imaged forced them awake, shaking and terrified, but not even the darkness of the bedroom comforted them - the image of their burning husband was imprinted into the backs of their eyes. Under normal circumstances, Kelas would turn to Elim for comfort, but since the summons...

With a groan, Kelas got up, and shuffled out of their bedroom and into the kitchen, wiping at the teartracks that now dusted their cheeks and jaw.. In the low light of Cardassia’s three moons, Kelas carefully prepared a cup of tea - _ðäūn_ tea with Kardasi blue reed, a favourite of theirs - and dropped unceremoniously into the chair at the kitchen table. The mere act of making tea soothed them, and the aromatic curls of steam at least cleared their head a little, even as their hands shook when stirring the tea. They added a little _neşle_ syrup, stirred, then tasted, and sipped when the drink was just to their liking. The comforting taste-scent of the drink brought comfort, but even as Kelas sipped at the drink, the nightmare of that night brooded and billowed around the back of their mind.

Kelas sighed, and reached across the table and turned on the radio. If tea wouldn’t chase away the ghosts, then perhaps some music would.

After a few moments of listening to Samsri crooning along to some late night song, Kelas’ ears picked up the slight creak of the floorboards in the house, and heard the slightly muffled footsteps of someone approaching the kitchen. _Elim must’ve heard me_ , Kelas thought with a wince, and their prediction was right on the money - Elim arrived in the doorway a few minutes later. Kelas watched as he took in the tea, the radio, and Kelas sitting morosely at the table, and knew that Elim had figured out. They shut their eyes as Elim dropped a light kiss on the crown of their head, and listened as Elim prepared themselves a cup of tea too, the light shuffling and clinking not disturbing the slightly fragile air of the kitchen.

“Nightmares, Kelas?” Elim asked, as he picked up his mug of tea. Kelas nodded, and took another sip of tea.

“Utsð again.” they replied. “During the Fire.”

With a slight groan, Elim dropped into the chair beside them, cradling his mug. “Did you want to talk about it?”

“There’s not much to say. It’s the same as it always is. Smoke, caverns, chemicals, frantically trying to find someone but knowing they’re dead.” A pause. “It was you, this time.”

“Me?”

“I was trying to find you. I kept looking and looking, passed so many dead, went deeper into the smoke until I- until I _found_ -”

The dream image of Elim, burnt and melted and in agony, arose in their mind, and Kelas put their mug down to avoid dropping it. The shaking that came after the nightmares rose anew, and Kelas fought the lump in their throat to avoid crying, their face contorting with the effort. Across from them, Elim placed his mug down, and took their fisted hands in his own, stroking them with his thumbs, and when Kelas’ breath hitched, he scooped them up to his lips and pressed gentle kisses to the knuckles.

“Oh, _Kelas…_ ”

Kelas sniffed miserably. Elim rested Kelas’ hands against his lips, pressing another set of kisses there.

“I know it’s the stress of the case that’s triggering this.” he murmured. “I promise you Kelas, we will get through this.”

“But- but what if we _don’t?_ ” Kelas asked, voice broken. “What if you are imprisoned? What if they find you guilty? What if-”

“We’ll deal with that when the time comes.” Elim said firmly, although Kelas felt his hands tighten around Kelas’ fingers fractionally. “I’m afraid too, you know.”

“I should be supporting you, not the other way around.”

“We should be supporting each other.” Elim pressed a final kiss to Kelas’ knuckles, before letting them go. “We’ll make it through this.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Elim smiled. “After everything we’ve been through, do you think a little thing like prison would keep us apart?”

* * *

The next morning, Kelas woke early, and after pressing a kiss to their sleeping husband’s forehead (who had another two hours before work, the lucky _zlleşş_ ), dressed and left for work. The fog of last night’s nightmare still haunted them, and so on the way in Kelas stopped by the nearest coffee station and filled up their travel mug with overpriced too-sweet coffee, mourning miserably the cost and the fact that Elim would never let the stuff into the house. The clinic was loud and busy, as it always was, but Kelas was too busy nursing their coffee to notice the numerous looks and glances pointed their way. They did, however, notice the arm suddenly gripping their elbow, and directing them very firmly towards the back offices.

“Can you not grab my arm?” Kelas complained, and the person at their elbow relented, and let go. Kelas looked up, and saw it was Doctor Chae’e. Kelas frowned - Chae’e never came to back office if she could help it…

“My apologies, Doctor Parmak,” Chae’e replied, not sounding very sorry at all. “I didn’t want to draw attention to your presence.”

“Draw attention?” Kelas frowned. “It’s not like me working here is _secret_ or anything-”

“I didn’t think you’d want people to be drawing attention to you, not on today of _all_ days.”

“Why? What’s so important about today?” Chae’e didn’t answer their question immediately, and instead pointed them into a small, tidy office, which Kelas feared they would mess up by simply being present. Chae’e took her seat on one side of the desk, and Kelas opted to stand in front of the desk, not wanting to have to struggle out of a soft chair this early in the morning. They watched Chae’e settle in, gripping their travel mug tightly in both hands.

“What’s going on?” Kelas asked, as soon as she was settled. “What’s happened?

Chae’e watched them, with an almost grim look. “Doctor Parmak, did you watch Iloise Metok’s ‘cast this morning?”

“Let’s not pretend I’m young enough to watch Iloise Metok,” Kelas shuddered. “I can barely stand the theme music. What happened?”

“You’ve been named as a witness in Castellan Garak’s trial. On a live ‘cast, to everyone on their morning commute.”

Kelas was suddenly very thankful that there was a chair nearby, as they slid into it with a _flump_.

“I… _how?_ ” Kelas tried to get their shell-shocked brain back into gear. “I… the only people who knew I had been summoned were those involved in the trial and my _nestor_. Not even Elim knew.”

“Apparently it’s been circulating in Federation circles for about three hours.” Chae’e’s face softened a little at their distress. “I don’t think it’s someone on our side.”

“ _Chlȳch_ ,” Kelas muttered. “Damnit, I- I was keeping it private for a reason- _chlȳch,_ Elim probably knows by now, and doesn’t know why I didn’t tell him- _zlleşşecha-_ ”

“Doctor Parmak, calm down.” Chae’e reached out, but perhaps thought better than touching them. “We need to sort out what we’ll do, now that’s out of the bag.”

“Right, right…” Kelas shook their head, telling themselves firmly to get a _grip_. “I suppose I can’t pray that no-one will ask me a thing?”

“You know Cardassia - we have opinions on everything. And both the morning and the night shift have been watching the ‘casts all morning in the rec room.”

“So they all know?”

“Mmm. As do all the patients sufficiently well to turn on their PADDs.”

“Damn.” Kelas rubbed their face, feeling wretched. “I’m sorry, it’s… it’s a bit of a shock, and I’m not thinking straight. What would you suggest?”

“I’m going to suggest you go on leave. Just until this all blows over.” Chae’e pushed a work PADD towards them. “Here, I’ve already organized it with back office. It just needs your thumbprint.”

“What about my patients - and my students? I wouldn’t want to leave them in the lurch.”

“All taken care of. I volunteered to take over your students, and your duties are being shared among the remaining staff.”

Kelas smiled a little wryly at the pre-prepared answer. “Why do I feel like this was something you expected?”

Chae’e had the grace to look a little abashed. “I… had suspected something like this might happen as soon as I heard the Castellan was to be charged.”

“I see.”

“But trust me Doctor Parmak, none of us want to see you hounded on the wards because of what you may or may not have witnessed. The staff here care for you, and wish to see you well.”

“I… I understand.” With only a moment’s hesitation, Kelas placed their thumbprint on the PADD, which beeped in acceptance. “I’ll go… well, I don’t know _where_ I’ll go-”

“Go somewhere you feel comfortable. Be that at home, or in a hotel somewhere…” Before Kelas could withdraw their hand, Chae’e placed her hand on it and gave it a quick squeeze. “I asked my partner, Suli, to hang back until you came - her skimmer is around the back, if you need to avoid any paparazzi.”

“I… thank you. I’ll go and find her.” And with their head spinning, Kelas walked out of the office.

* * *

Kelas had hoped they’d be able to escape the hospital unaccosted. They’d taken all the back corridors, the unused and underused ones, avoided everyone’s gaze, and moved quickly but surreptitiously through the hospital towards the back entrance. Their knees and hips ached from the speed in which they hurried through the corridors, but Kelas paid them no heed, instead pushing through their disabilities and the pain in their haste to _escape._ They were almost certain someone was calling their name, but Kelas’ sight had narrowed to tunnel vision, and all they cared about was the exit they needed to get to, their route of escape, and they were so close now, they could escape and hide and figure out what to do, oh _fates what to do-_

“Doctor Parmak-” Someone grabbed their arm, and Kelas yanked it away, hissing.

“Don’t _touch_ me!”

They turned, to see who the intruder was. Tellor stood their, in their nurses scrubs, but instead of looking contrite or guilty, he simply looked angry. Kelas didn’t have to think too hard to guess what that anger was about.

“Nurse Tellor,” they said, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry, but I’m off for the day-”

“I heard what happened.” Tellor interrupted. Kelas ignored him.

“-if you need something, please contact Doctor Chae’e.” Kelas went to walk past him, but Tellor stepped in front of them, blocking their path.

“What do you intend to do?” Tellor asked, almost aggressively. “Are you going to stand against the Castellan?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Kelas frowned. “Please, let me go.”

Tellor anger seemed to grow. “It’s isn’t a hard question, Doctor-”

“I _still_ don’t want to answer it.” Kelas tried to sidestep him, but Tellor blocked their path again. “Let me go!”

“Not until you answer the question! What evidence are you giving?!”

“The evidence I give is _none_ of your business, Tellor!”

Tellor slammed his hand into the wall, and Kelas flinched, the shaking intensifying from the sudden fright. But it wasn’t as if Tellor had noticed - in fact, the nurse was staring at that wall, breathing heavily.

“Did you know,” he said, quietly. “that the Obsidian Order took my sister?”

Kelas frowned, caution marred with confusion. “No. I didn’t know.”

“My sister was twenty-one. A Rain Stander. Beautiful. Just past emergence, and at the start of her life. I was nine. One day she was painting, all flowing Bajoran robes and smiles, and the next she was… gone.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

He shook his head. “You don’t get it. How could you - you’re _married_ to an Order man!”

“He’s changed-”

“Does it matter? The past hasn’t changed. My sister is still gone, and the only thing I know about her disappearance is that _Elim Garak_ was sat in our living room the night she left!”

Something cold and icy ran down Kelas’ back. “Tellor…”

“I asked them if I could stand as witness in this trial.” Tellor murmured. “They took my statement, but told me there was nothing to be done. There wasn’t enough evidence.”

“I’m sorry, Tellor. Really I am.”

Tellor shook his head. “Of all the people they could’ve summoned as witness, they summoned _you_. The one person who has a vested stake in the Castellan not being arrested.”

Kelas tilted their head. “You think I won’t tell the truth?”

“Why would you?” Tellor turned to them, with a dark gleam in their eyes. “Are you honestly going to tell me that you’re willing to testify against your husband?”

Kelas opened their mouth, then closed it again. Not even Kelas had the answer to that question. As if vindicated, Tellor pushed themselves up from the wall, scowling at Kelas all the while. Kelas couldn’t help but feel that maybe that dark fury was well-directed.

“I’ll see you when you’re back from leave, Doctor Parmak.” he muttered, and within a few seconds he was gone. Kelas slid down the wall they were leaning on, covering their face with their hands.

* * *

After some time, Kelas picked themselves up from the floor and left the hospital though the back entrance, barely seeing anything in front of them, joint pain growing from a dull ache to a sharp stabbing sore. Suli’s skimmer was nearby, bright yellow among the blue and white medical skimmers, and Kelas immediately headed across to it, climbing into the front seat with a relieved sigh. With the door shut, the skimmer was blissfully quiet - Suli had evidently thought ahead, and had turned off the radio so they wouldn’t have to listen to it.

“You alright, doc?” Suli looked across from the drivers side, concerned. Kelas nodded.

“Yes.” they said, their voice only a little raspy. “Thank you for waiting.”

“No worries at all - Chae’e explained everything. Where can I take you?”

The address on Kelas’ lips had been the Castellancy address, but they suddenly paused and thought for a moment. It was still early - Elim would not have left for work yet, and the thought of seeing Elim after all this… Kelas shook their head, and took several deep breaths.

“Paldar.” they said. “I’ll get you the address, hold on…”

Palder was the location of the old Tain residence - one that Elim had rebuilt into a small five-room bungalow for both himself and later Kelas to live in. After ascending to the Castellancy, both Kelas and Elim had moved to the Castellan’s house in Coranum, but the little house in Paldar was still maintained by a small group of staff, and occasionally either Kelas or Elim retreated to it when the larger Castellancy house and its associated baggage became overwhelming. Suli dropped Kelas off right outside the front door, and Kelas was relieved to note that the press hadn’t decided to camp outside the house. They were certain they would be haunting the Castellancy.

“Do you need anything else, doc?” Suli asked, as Kelas struggled out of the skimmer. “Need me to call anyone, or buy anything?”

“I’ll be alright,” they said. “I just need some time to rest. Thank you.”

Suli nodded, and once Kelas was a safe distance away, revved the skimmer and drove off into the mid-morning sunlight. Kelas raised a hand in farewell, before heading inside, keenly aware of one of the neighbours peering at them through the curtains of the house across the road. The house was clean, tidy and quiet, and Kelas immediately made a beeline for the collection of settees arranged in front of the glass windows. They flopped down on one of them, not even bothering to kick off their shoes or remove their scarf before they pressed themselves deep into the cushions. The shock of their sudden outing was now starting to wear off, and Kelas now felt utterly, _utterly_ wretched.

What a _mess._

The nerves and anxiety of the situation wriggled and squirmed under Kelas’ scales, and soon they got ansty to move, or pace, or _something._ Kelas got up off the settee, and paced, forwards and back, until that too got irritating and they stopped, sat down again, then stood up and walked to the window. They took a deep breath, and pressed a palm to the cool window pane, grounding them. _What would Cardassia make of this?_ they wondered. From the house high on a hill, Kelas could see people in parts of the city down below, walking, running, looking at their PADDs and comms. What would they do in their situation? Who, down there in the labyrinthian streets of Kardasi’or, would have an answer to their predicament? Who ever had to face the man they loved most, and tell them that they held the power to see them locked away for the rest of their life?

Kelas was  so deep in their misery that they nearly missed the sleek black skimmer turn and start heading up the road towards the house. Kelas knew this skimmer on sight - they’d ridden in it often enough, to various functions and parties. That was the Castellan’s car, and that meant that Elim had figured out where Kelas had holed up. They closed their eyes, listening out until they could hear the whirr of the skimmer pull into the driveway. Footsteps on gravel, then the whine of the door hinges, a few moments of silence, then-

“Kelas.”

Kelas felt every muscle in their body tighten up in fear. This was it. This was the moment where the very lovely little life they’d built around the ruins of Cardassia came crumbling down again. This was when Elim got sad, and angry, and betrayed, and he would argue with Kelas, and they’d fight and argue, and one of them would storm out, and that would be the end of it. That would be the end of Kelas’ lovely little marriage, and their lovely little home overlooking the city, and…

Elim’s arms suddenly came around their waist. Kelas yelped a little in surprise, but instead of moving away, Elim pressed his face into Kelas’ neck ridge, in the way they did when Kelas needed comforting. Kelas let out a shaky breath, and leant back into Elim’s arms, touching Elim’s arms almost reverently. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. This wasn’t what Kelas had expected at _all._

“Elim…” Kelas murmured. “Elim, I’m sorry-”

“Shh.” Elim murmured. “I understand.”

“You’re not... angry?”

“Oh, I was. Early this morning, when I found out. I was angry, hurt, betrayed…”

“But now?”

“Now… now I’m less so.” Elim shifted a little. “I get why you didn’t tell you.”

“I didn’t intend to hurt you.” Kelas turned in Elim’s embrace to face him. “I swear, I only did what I thought would be best-”

“And in doing so, you hurt me.”

“I know.” Kelas didn’t meet Elim’s eyes, instead tracing a pattern on the front of his tunic. “I didn’t want us to get to court, and have the prosecution accuse you of tampering with the witness. I didn’t want to make any more trouble for you, or put any more stress on you.”

“And so you took it all on yourself, and hurt yourself instead.” Elim voice wasn’t judgemental, just… sad. “My dear, I never want you to hurt yourself on my account. Never again.”

Kelas sniffed but didn’t answer. Gently, Elim pressed his lips to Kelas’ _chupha_ , light but deeply fond.

“These past few days,” he murmured against their forehead. “I’ve been _worried_ for you. The case was at the back of my mind, but my concern was for _you_. You were having nightmares again, weren’t smiling, or laughing at any of my terrible literature. You wouldn’t come _near_ me. I knew something was wrong, but you wouldn’t tell me _what._ ”

“Because I couldn’t.” Kelas replied wetly. “How could I put you in that position - knowing that I had been given the power to imprison you, and if I didn’t give evidence you could be imprisoned anyway if they thought you’d gotten me to keep quiet?”

“Well, it’s too late for that now.” Elim pressed another kiss to their forehead. “We need to decide how to approach this. But for now, I’d really like to kiss you. Please.”

Kelas tilted their head up, trying and failing not to look as miserable as they felt. Elim’s expression too was fraught, with sadness and betrayal battling for dominance. Kelas almost looked down again at the sight, but Elim’s hand came up to touch their chin, and suddenly they were being kissed, ever so gently, as if they would fly apart with any change in pressure. Kelas whimpered a little, a little needy - Kelas’ body simply _craved_ the touch and the comfort of their mate. They kissed once, twice, and then broke, trading tiny butterfly touches and nips.

“I don’t want to do this,” Kelas whispered, their voice shaky and broke. “Elim, I _can’t_ do this-”

“Shh,” Elim murmured. “Hush. Don’t panic about it. Just let me hold you for tonight.”

And for the rest of the evening, that was what they did. They curled up together on the settee, and Kelas told Elim everything - the summons, Julian’s visit, their own fears. Elim was silent for the most part, only murmuring comfort and stroking their hair. Elim had briefly stiffened when Kelas had gotten to the part about Julian attempting to force them to act as a witness, but as Kelas had shied away from his suddenly cold demeanour, Elim made very certain that he was not angry at Kelas, but at Julian for putting them in that position.

“I would not be too surprised,” Elim said quietly, during a lull in the conversation. “If Section 31 was behind the leak.”

“You think so?” Kelas asked. “You think Julian would leak that?”

“I don’t know.” Elim was quiet for a moment. “But I know how that kind of life eats you alive - chews up your morals and spits them out in the name of your planet. The Julian I knew would never have leaked the information, but I don’t know the Julian who invaded our home.”

“So he may have.” Kelas rubbed their face. “Why, though? Surely leaking parts of the case serves to undermine its integrity, rather than strengthen it.”

“Why else? To pressure you of course.”

“That was a risky move.”

“Risky, but calculated. By leaking your name, Section 31 ensured you would be pressured by the Cardassians around you to testify, at the cost of a little trust in the court system.” He paused. “I suspect you’ve already been approached by some of your colleagues about it.”

“Yes. Tellor - a half-Bajoran nurse at the hospital - he approached me. He wanted me to testify.”

“I can understand why he wants justice, being part-Bajoran.”

“It’s not just that.” Kelas paused, considering. “Tellor… Tellor’s sister was taken by the Obsidian Order. She was part of the Rain Stand movement - you remember, the cross-planetary dissident movement.”

“He thinks I was involved.”

“The only thing he remembers of that night is you sat in their living room.”

Elim seemed to sag, and suddenly he looked so very tired. “I helped imprison many people in that movement. I don’t know if I can remember them all.”

“Tellor had asked to testify against you, but he was refused. He wanted to make certain I would testify so that his sister would get justice.”

“It is not _your_ responsibility for her justice. The judge will grant that. It is not _you_ who chooses whether I’m free or if I’m imprisoned.”

“But don’t you see?” Kelas cried. “It _is_ me. I’m the only living witness- Julian said without my testimony-”

“Forget Julian for a moment.” Elim tipped their head back so he could meet their gaze. “ _Đurha,_ I’m not going to hold it against you if you do testify. I’m not going to hold it against you if I am imprisoned. _It isn’t your fault._ ”

Pinned by Elim’s bright blue eyes, Kelas could only murmur some token protest. Very carefully, Elim kissed them again, soft lips running against Kelas’ anxiety-bitten dry ones like a gentle balm. They did not talk any more about the case, only comforted and touched, wiping away the tears as they came, soothing the anxious shaking with gentle hands and warm palms. Later, they moved to the bed, and their ministrations turned more intimate, fingers and thumbs deep in the folds of their arousal, and Kelas sobbed as Elim pressed into them, overwhelmed by pleasure and intimacy. They both reached their peak in a wave of emotion and exhaustion, and Elim buried their face in Kelas’ neckridge, ensuring as much of their bodies were touching as possible.

By the time the morning rose, Kelas knew exactly what choice they would make.

* * *

The hearing took place over several days, but Kelas only needed to attend the last day to give testimony - and that date came around far too quickly for Kelas’ liking. On the morning, Elim left early again, and Kelas could only watch helplessly from the bed as Elim’s shaking fingers fumbled at the clasps of their suit. After his departure, Kelas simply lay in their shared bed, desponant, brooding and thinking, their anxiety running laps around the insides of their brain. It was pure muscle memory that got them out of the bed when their alarm sounded, and that same muscle memory that got them cleaned, dressed and into the kitchen for breakfast. Their stomach rebelled at the thought of any food, and so they nibbled on a side of toasted _povva_ bread, and tried not to panic when they heard their skimmer to the court pull up outside.

They were eternally grateful that Sūl-Amūë had agreed to accompany them to court. Kelas did not think they would’ve been able to do this without them. As Kelas left the glare of the papparazzi camera flashes and all but crawled into the skimmer, Sūl-Amūë was waiting for them, and immediately reached out and squeezed their hand in comfort. They did not let go of Kelas’ hand for the entirety of the journey to the court, which Kelas appreciated - the touch served to anchor them, and keep them from flying apart at the seams, which was what their anxiety was vying for. Sūl-Amūë kept them together as they shuffled from the skimmer into the shuttlecraft, then from the shuttlecraft to the _USS Cohlm_ where the trial would take place, and then to the check-in area.

“Doctor Kelas Parmak, and their _nestor_ Sūl-Amūëfra-Mennamels-Sūn Calȳrh-Mäȳch,” Sūl-Amūë told the Human clark, once they were at the desk. “Doctor Parmak is witness to the Garak case. ID 24J6V01J. Kelas, your documents?”

Kelas handed over their bunch of documents - their ID, the summons, and a copy of the marriage certificate that Elim and Kelas had signed all those years ago. The clark noded at the first two, but paused at the third, their forehead frowning in slight confusion.

“You and the Castellan are married?”

“Yes.” Kelas said. “It’s not common knowledge, but…”

“This might mean you wont need to be witness then.” The clark handed back Kelas’ ID2 and letter, but kept the marriage certificate. “I’ll take this over to the team, see if there’s anything they can do. In the meantime, if you follow Julie over there, she’ll walk you through the process…”

Kelas felt themselves shuffled across to a greying Human woman, who immediately soothed Kelas’ anxiety to a dull rumble. As Sūl-Amūë and Julie discussed the process and what was required, Kelas looked around the atrium. The room was rather large, but the ceiling was low, as most rooms in spacecraft were. The walls were a neutral cream and grey, while the carpets were a plush red. The seats dotted around were curved wood - a luxury rare seen on the almost treeless Cardassia, and they were accompanied by small coffee tables. The atrium was fairly quiet - despite Elim’s hearing being the talk of everyone on Cardassia, from what it looked like the Federation had limited access to it, excepting a handful of journalists and some required Starfleet personnel. As their eyes roved over the room, Kelas caught a glimpse of a dark shadow in the corner of the room. Julian Bashir stood there, in a medical skant, watching them as they were patted down for weapons. Kelas shivered.

“Is there somewhere private I can wait?” they asked Julie as the frisk was completed. “I’m not too comfortable with the crowd…”

Julie nodded, as if expecting this, and showed both Sūl-Amūë and Kelas down a small side-passage, into a tiny waiting room, with a handful of chairs and a big screen. Kelas and Sūl-Amūë were then left alone, and although Kelas sank gratefully into a nearby chair, they could not help but shift uncomfortably, their anxiety crawling right under their scales.

“Would you like me to turn the screen on, so you can watch the trial?” Sūl-Amūë asked, after about five minutes.

“Yes.” Kelas said, then thought for a moment. “No. I don’t know.”

Sūl-Amūë raised an eyeridge, and Kelas settled with a slight huff. “This wait is intolerable. My anxiety is rioting.”

“I can tell.” Sūl-Amūë pressed a warm hand to Kelas’ shoulder. “Whatever you decide, it’s your choice. I’ll support you whatever you choose.”

Kelas sighed. “I know. Thank you.”

Sūl-Amūë patted their shoulder one more time, before settling back into their chair. Kelas too settled, although their anxiety was chasing spirals around their head, biting and painful. The minutes dragged on and on, and Kelas both wished and didn’t wish they knew what was going on in the trial room. Several times, they reached for the screen remote, before tossing it back to its place on the side table without turning anything on. Kelas had made their decision on what to say, on what to do, but doubts and criticisms still raced through their mind, unable to settle on anything, always burning. Sūl-Amūë was quiet, which Kelas was grateful for - the thought of any conversation right now was exhausting.

“Doctor Parmak?” After about an hour, Julie poked her head through the doorway. “It’s your turn.”

Sūl-Amūë pressed their hand against theirs in one final show of support, before watching as Kelas left the room. Kelas just felt sick at this point, and the corridor leading to the trial room seemed to be never-ending. They leaned heavily on their walking stick, keeping balance as they arrived at the door. Julie gave them one last smile before ushering them through and into the trial room itself.

This was it.

Kelas took a deep breath, and moved forward to the witness box. They could feel several sets of eyes on them as they walked down the aisle to the stand, and resolutely refused to look at any of them. They did however take a peek at Elim as they passed by the defendant's stand - Elim was very clearly avoiding looking at them, which caused a pang of hurt in Kelas’ heart, but the rational side of Kelas knew that Elim was already walking a fine line with Kelas as witness, and couldn’t be seen to be tampering with the witness. Their hands shook just a little as they gripped the banister and climbed the three stairs, and Kelas could not deny they felt just a little bit dizzy when turning around to face the court. They took another deep breath, and lay their hand on the PADD provided, and swore themselves in.

 _Focus, Kelas_.

Elim’s _conservator,_ Iliok spoke first. “Could you identify yourself to the court?”

“Doctor Kelas Parmak.” They paused for a moment. “Also known as Rhū-chū-eltsa-chaðȳcs Pharh-marhch neszūrh-ȳ, under Indaric law.”

Iliok nodded. “Which name would you prefer?”

“Doctor Parmak, please.”

“Doctor Parmak, do you understand why you have been summoned here?”

“I do. I’m here as a witness to an alleged crime.”

“And is there anything in your opinion that makes you unable to complete your duties as a witness?”

Kelas paused again. “Yes.”

A murmur spread throughout the court, which was quickly silenced by a look from the judge. “Could you elaborate on that, Doctor Parmak?”

“I am Elim’s spouse. Due to this, I don’t feel that I am able to give evidence in this case.”

Another murmur, louder this time, which didn’t quite quieten. The jury looked between each other, exchanging silent communications that Kelas could not hope to decipher. Finally, Iliok spoke again.

“And you have evidence for this?”

“My marriage papers were given to a court official at the start of this case.”

That evidence was summarily requested, and duly handed to the judge for inspection. Kelas held their breath as the judge perused the written documents, before she nodded, and handed the papers back.

“Their documents are valid.” she said. “Does anyone have arguments against the witness being dismissed?”

“Aye.” The opposition’s main counsel - a young Bajoran - spoke up. “Under Federation law, a defendant’s spouse is still classed as a competent witness. Doctor Parmak can still give evidence.”

“But they cannot be _compelled_ to give evidence.” Iliok turned back towards Kelas. “Doctor Parmak, were you compelled to give evidence?”

“Yes. I was issued a summons.”

“The validity of the summons is not relevant to the case-” the Bajoran counsel tried to argue, but she was interrupted by the judge.

“It is relevant, Counsel Beril - if the summons is invalid, then the witness cannot be forced to give testimony.” The judge eyed Kelas with a beady eye. “It’s my opinion that that summons should not have been issued, given this new evidence. Doctor Parmak has grounds to refuse to answer.”

“In which case, I’d like to appeal for Special Consideration.” Unruffled, Beril straightened her papers. “Doctor Parmak is the only living witness to this case - there is no-one else to give testimony. Without them, your conclusions will have to be drawn on incomplete evidence.”

There was a pause, while the judge considered the argument. Kelas took this as an opportunity to drink some water, praying that their shaking hands did not accidentally upend the cup.

“I understand your case, Counsel Beril,” the judge said slowly. “But appeal denied.”

“And your reasoning?”

“As the defendant’s mate, they cannot be compelled by the prosecution to provide evidence, no matter how much other evidence is on hand. I have no desire to pitch partner against partner.” She paused for a moment. “However, if the witness wishes to voluntarily give evidence, they may.”

With a nod, Iliok turned to back to Kelas. “Are you willing to give evidence voluntarily, Doctor Parmak?”

Kelas hesitated, feeling the eyes of the world burning into their skull. _Time to make a decision..._

“No, I am not.”

* * *

After being taken home, the first thing Kelas did was collapse on the sofa, their exhausted thoughts spiraling in loops around their mind. Sūl-Amūë had offered to come with them, but Kelas had declined. They needed to be alone. They blindly reached for the remote and turned on the ‘casts, but then immediately turned it off as they quickly decided that, in fact, they very much didn’t want to know what was going on. They sighed, resting one arm over their brow, tired and exhausted.

It was done.

It was done, and there was nothing Kelas could do to change it now. It all rested in the hands of the jury. Kelas had made their choice, and now they had to live with the consequences of it. They knew some in their personal circle would see it as an affront that they didn’t testify, and some would not be comfortable associating with them any more, but it was done. Kelas shut their eyes, and tried not to be haunted by the thoughts of justice not granted, of Tellor’s fury, of the headlines tomorrow, of the possibility of Elim not…

Kelas pushed themselves out of the sofa, abruptly snapping themselves out of that thought. Elim _had_ to come home. Kelas could not bear the thought that even after making the decision they did, Elim would still be charged. Elim had to come home, he _had_ to. But still the doubts remained, and anxiety drove Kelas to the bedroom, the place where Kelas had always felt closest to Elim. Leaning heavily on their stick, Kelas shuffled to the room, and leaned against the door jamb, looking out over the tidy bed, the clothes in the corner, the knicknacks on the window, and felt a deep pang of longing.

This is where they had always been closest - where they had whispered secrets in the dark, shared kisses and giggles, made love until they were tired and spent. This was where they displayed their secret life, the one not seen by the papparazzi or the members of the government. On the wall there was a picture of their wedding, where Elim had refused to pose nicely and instead chased Kelas for a kiss, while Kelas tried vainly to escape, face creased in happiness. On the sideboard there lay their various medications, spare pair of glasses, and abandoned PADDs, a display of their routines, which had always slotted in together like a well-oiled machine. Kelas’ stuffed whale sat on the end of the bed, and Kelas remembered how their father, and then Elim, would read to them when they were sick and tired, and Kelas would curl up with the whale and be soothed. They sat on the edge of the bed, and curled the white whale close, letting the soft floral scent fill them up from the inside as they bent their head and prayed.

 _I reach into the Dark_ , Kelas thought, _and beg that there is something that will bring Elim back to me. Please, let there be something..._

At some point during their meditation, Kelas must’ve fallen asleep, because the next thing they were roused by the noise of the front door opening and closing. Kelas blinked for a moment, taking in the darkened skies and the hum of the heating, until the events of the morning kame flooding back to them. They sat bolt-upright, looking at the door, the plush whale lying limply in their hands. Was it Elim, or was it one of his security team? Had he been…?

The bedroom door opened, and Elim walked in. Kelas rose from the bed, the question on their lips, but before they could speak Elim scooped them up into an embrace, burying his head in Kelas’ neckridge.

“No charges,” he murmured, relief flooding his voice. “No trial, no charges. I’m here to stay.”

“Thank fates,” Kelas responded, voice shaking. “Thank _fates-_ I thought I’d lose you-”

“I know. I _know_.” Elim leaned back, to look Kelas in the eyes. “I might still-”

“Let’s not think on that. We have tonight, and we have tomorrow - let’s enjoy that, hmm?”

“Yes, of course.” Elim pressed his forehead to Kelas’ in _mennrhe._ “Thank you, my dear. _Thank you_.”

Kelas did not reply, and instead reached out to stroke Elim’s neckridges. Even the feel of the familiar scales was overwhelming in the relief it brought, and Kelas sniffed, fighting back tears. There were still questions to be answered, people to face - it had been a long road, and Kelas still wasn’t certain if justice had been served, but it was over now. It was done. Sensing their thoughts, Elim reached up and patted Kelas’ arm, his expression soft.

“I’m okay.” he said. “We survived.”

 _Just about,_ Kelas thought, but they didn’t put voice to thought. Instead, Kelas paused for a moment, then leaned up and pressed a kiss to Elim’s lips. They felt Elim smile at the contact, and the familiar flush of affection and love flared as Kelas broke away. They patted Elim’s shoulder, grinning, before taking his hand and tugging him towards the bed.

“Come on,” they said. “Let’s talk about this in the morning.”  
  
  
  



End file.
